... And there was the house.

Caroline blinked. The house remained.

She took a step forward, then stopped herself. She knew the rules, of course.
	They'd all been warned thoroughly about the dangers of the house, and she'd
	expected eventually she'd encounter it, and yet, now that it was here, before
	her, it was different than she'd ever imagined it would be.
	
Because she knew the house.

This was not "the house". This was The House. She remembered it. She
	couldn't forget it if she tried, a hypothesis she knew confirmed by a
	lifetime testing it. This was the house.
	
This was the house where she'd lived. This was the house where the father lived.
	This was the house of bones. This was the house of blood. This place is haunted
	by memories she carried of it, and by memories she did not, but remembered anyway.
	
She remembered waking in the night. She remembered hearing the wailing from below.
	She remembered walking down the stairs, trying to remain silent. She remembered
	the sound, growing louder with each step. The weeping. The screaming. She
	remembered the state of it, the shattered place, the house inverted, upside down.
	She remembered seeing the door to the basement ajar. The sound. She walked towards
	it. She remembered pulling it open, and there he was, the father, and -
	
			and -?
			
	and her mind revolted, pushed the memory from her mind, as though the act of
	remembering, any rememembering, would summon him again. But he was gone now, he
	was long, long dead. And yet:
	
The house burned down long ago. Yet. Here it was. Returned to life, before her. Had
	her memories conjured it again? Or, had it always been here. Perhaps the house			What does this actually mean -?
	she knew was not this one, but the same house from a different time, another 			
	version of the same frozen house, the shattered house, where he-
	
No. If her memories could summon this place, then she would not remember him.
	She would not. And she would not enter the house. She would not. Except, was that
	the door to the basement? And the kitchen, in perfect order. And the living room,
	and the stairs to the upper level, and the dining room, and...
	
She was inside. 6C. 			She didn't remember coming in, but, this was the
										6c?
	place she remembered. It was just 			how she left it, before the fire. Before she ran
	away and escaped from it, once and				for all. Except, perhaps not, for here it was.
	
A morbid curiosity gripped her. She wanted to throw open the basement door, as though
	seeing it empty would dispell the ghost that haunted her still. But what if it was
	not empty? What if, when she opened it, she found herself back in that place again?
	What if he was there? What if he IS there? Waiting? In the dark? Can he hear
	her? How loud is she breathing? Can he hear her heart beating? She can. How did she	get inside, could he hear that? 
	 Does he already know, and he's waiting for her to open the door, or is he not sure? Could he come walking up those stairs at any moment? 
	  Could that door swing open from the inside? Could he be there? What is he waiting for? Is he armed? What is he doing? Is he angry? Is he coming? Is he on his way? Is he climbing the-

BSOP EIRE .L.R .E.I .N.S .T.H

She was still as she could be. Her breath came fast. Her heart beat faster still. This
	was the place, and she had a lifetime of practice hiding here. Trying not to be
	seen by him, by anyone. But she did not dare move, frozen between two equal terrors.
	
	Would he find her if she stayed? Would he find her if she moved?
	But, she is not a child anymore, she reminds herself. She is not the person she once            But is he?
	was. She should not be afraid of him anymore. After all, after everything, he's just             And, if he is not, what would she do about it?
	one man. Isn't he?                                                                             How can you fight something you cannot see? 
                                                                                                    Something you cannot remember without it finding you?
She could not turn her back on the door.